


There is a Place You Belong

by Dryad



Category: Lewis (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - F/M/M, X Files S8, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4695179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This place that you belong to though it is not yours</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is a Place You Belong

**Author's Note:**

> This is a followup to [Bright Objects](http://archiveofourown.org/works/946044), though that does not have to be read in order to enjoy this.
> 
> Though this Scully is at the beginning of S8, she is not pregnant in this story.

**What came before:**

_Hathaway frowned. Was she trying to reassure him or herself?_

_"I wanted...I don't even know what I wanted. I'm sorry, I should go," She tossed back the whisky in one shot and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shifted as if to stand._

_He caught her wrist. "No, don't. Stay," For what, he didn't know. But he recognized her loneliness, her want for comfort, her longing for something other than what she had, even though she might not know what the other was. As she stared at his hand, as if deciding whether or not to slap him, he quickly leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth. Drew back a little. Listened to her shallow breathing. Forward once more, only to be met by her soft lips as she turned into his kiss…_

_[…events occur…]_

_"Hmm? Oh, Lavigne, right," murmured Lewis, glancing at Hathaway. He did a double take as Hathaway leaned away to dig through the bottom drawer of his desk. Was that - were there - ? Lewis peered more closely, then straightened so quickly he had to let out a groan as he moved the wrong way._

_"Alright?"_

_Lewis nodded, steadfastedly not looking at his Sergeant. The four streaks on the back of Hathaway's neck were definitely scratches. Made by fingernails. Well, good on the lad. Past time he had a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Whatever, none of his business as long as Hathaway was happy. "Here they come," he said, watching Mulder and Scully stride down the hall in their G-man suits and black overcoats._

_Hands were shaken, pleasantries exchanged. Lewis could admit to himself he was eager to see the back of them. Not that they weren't nice people, they were. The type of danger they brought...no. He wanted Hathaway here, next to himself or some other copper, not with the likes of them. Scully stood on her toes to whisper something in Hathaway's ear, something that made his cheeks burn as he glanced at Lewis with wide eyes._

_The day was brought to rights when Hathaway brought two cups of freshly brewed tea and a small plate of biscuits to Lewis' desk. He dragged his chair over and they feasted._

 

**Present day:**

 

Once home, Lewis settled into making a few late night snacks. He wasn't in the mood for a full meal, doubted Hathaway or Dana would want to eat either. The front door opened as he was putting away the morning dishes. He heard the rumble of Hathaway' voice as he and Dana passed the kitchen, a chuckle or two coming from the living room before the gentle tones of classical guitar overtook all other sounds.

Lewis set himself to chopping and slicing vegetables; carrots, celery, a few mushrooms. Surely that was enough? He placed it all on a tray and headed towards the living room. At the the entrance he stopped short, because Dana was hugging Hathaway, her arms around his waist while his were wrapped around her shoulders. Lewis could see her shoulders shaking as she cried. Hathaway spied him and shook his head slightly. Lewis nodded back, retreated into the kitchen. Setting the tray down, he crossed his ankles and leaned against the counter, tapping one finger against his lower lip. 

Hathaway came in, leaned against the door jamb, folding his arms across his chest as he did so.

Lewis glanced back once before deciding he needed to concentrate on his knife. Distraction could easily lead to fingers being chopped off. Of course he had good reason for being distracted; Hathaway, kissing Dana in the pub. He didn't know what to make of it. "How's she doing?"

"As best as can be expected. Robbie."

Shite. They were going to talk about this. "Does it have to be now?"

"Yes."

Hathaway' voice had come in over his shoulder and Lewis was intensely aware that the man was now directly behind him. Lewis set down the knife and radish, turned around, leaned against the counter. "Alright."

Hathaway stared at him with a furrowed brow. "You weren't even going to ask me, were you?"

Lewis should have known better. Of course Hathaway would come straight to the point. How to explain? It wasn't that he was jealous. Shocked, yes, god almighty, shocked. And heartbroken, if he were honest with himself. But he was big enough and mean enough to not take it personally, even though it was personal, bitterly personal. He was an old man, Hathaway was not. There was never any reason to suspect this wouldn't happen, although...Dana was a surprise.

"Robbie," breathed Hathaway, stepping even closer, until his black shirt and black buttons filled Lewis's vision, the pulse at the base of his pale throat, the whiff of his cologne - something acutely green, still fresh after all day - familiar. "It was comfort given, that's all. I'd like to give her more, if you'll allow it."

More?

"Yes," murmured Hathaway. He leaned forward, whispered into Lewis's ear. "We slept together, long before I even knew you and I were a possibility. In a funny way she was the catalyst. She saw what I didn't."

He had to look up into Hathaway' gentle gaze, as if his heart wasn't going to pound out of his chest at this new news. It didn't hurt, precisely. More of an 'Oh', a mental tick against a square in score sheets he hadn't even known he was keeping. 

"She saw that I loved you, and encouraged me to make it known to you."

"Oh," Lewis said, equally softly. Bewildered by this turn of events. "I don't understand."

Hathaway smiled a little. "I know. Which is why I'm asking you if I can give her this, too, tonight."

Oh. Hathaway...here?

"Because I don't want to hide anything from you."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Say yes," Hathaway whispered. "Please. This is one time only, Robbie. She's hurting, and I can take that away for one night."

A bit of religion came to mind, and he said, "You're not a sin eater."

Hathaway's smile was quick and appreciative, falling away immediately after. His gaze was intense as he looked at Robbie. "Neither are you. Say no, and I'll have done with it."

Once more, Robbie had to think. Hathaway was very reassuring - and he could trust him, yes, he trusted him with his life. Could he do the same with his love?

"I'm not going to leave you for her or anyone else," said Hathaway. 

They stood in silence for a few moments before Lewis finally nodded. He wasn't absolutely sure he wasn't making a mistake...no, that wasn't true, he had no fucking idea what the hell he was doing. Maybe it was because he knew them both, and had known Mulder, and had seen the depth of their relationship first hand. Yes, that was it exactly! Dana was _safe_ for Hathaway because she had no intention of being with anyone save Mulder. 

Relief immediately flooded him. He was as sure of this as he was of his own abilities as a Copper. "Alright then."

Hathaway jerked back. "Really?"

Lewis grinned and nodded, giddy with…something. "Really."

Hathaway gave him a quick peck on the cheek, smiled and headed back into the living room.

Lewis contented himself by chopping more vegetables and drinking more of the excellent white wine Hathaway had brought. He felt like laughing, felt like singing. Proud of himself for not falling into despair over such a simple thing. 

Lewis busied himself in the kitchen. 

He cut more vegetables; diced potatoes and peppers and onions, sliced more mushrooms and tomatoes and that courgette that was about to turn. 

He measured rice. In another bowl, measured water, set the two bowls next to one another.

He boiled eggs.

He sliced cheese and opened a box of crackers.

He put water in the coffee maker and opened the single estate coffee Hathaway had bought the week before.

He filled the kettle and put three tea bags in three mugs, with spoons besides.

He cleaned the dishes and wiped down the counters and swept the floor.

And when he could find no more to do, he dried his hands and slowly entered the hallway, drifted down to the living room, edged around the open door.

Blinked.

Hathaway and Dana were on the sofa. Dana was in his lap and they were kissing, easy, eyes closed, Dana's hands carding through Hathaway's long-for-him hair. Lewis knew what it felt like, silky and smooth. No doubt with her sensitive fingers she felt the new scar on Hathaway's scalp, from when the hydraulics failed on the raised door of the boot, and it had come down as Hathaway was putting in the groceries. 

Head wounds bled quite a lot.

Of course she would know that, she was a Forensic Pathologist.

They looked good together, on the sofa. Bright hair, pale skinned, both all in black. Hathaway's hands were up the back of her shirt now - Lewis turned away and headed towards his bedroom. It would be his sanctuary for the night. Hathaway's MP3 player lay on the side table, perhaps by design, though Lewis was fairly sure he had seen it there that morning. In any case, he would put on some music and read his book and fall asleep and it would all be fine in the morning, he would make it so. 

He undressed, did not think about Hathaway helping Dana with the buttons on her shirt. He hung up his trousers and jacket, tossed his shirt in the laundry bin, put his tie on the rack after closely inspecting it for drips and smears of food, coffee, tea. There was nothing.

Settling in bed with his book, Elizabeth Marshall's _The Old Ways_. Hopefully it would be enough. 

Lewis jumped a little when the book slipped out of his hands onto his lap. He grimaced, shook his head. No point in even trying to read when all he could think about was what had happened in the pub, the way Hathaway's eyes had lit up when he had seen her come in, Lewis sitting there all unknowing. Because for once, he had had his back to the bar, trusting Hathaway to keep an eye out for them both. A queer kind of serendipity, her showing up out of the blue during the one time he had reverted to old habit. Because of course the only reason he always his back to a wall now was down to her, her and Mulder.

Hathaway had practically leapt to his feet, swiftly stepped to her side. He motioned towards Lewis, and Dana nodded. Minutes later, pints in hand, they came to the table. 

"Pleasure to see you again, Agent Scully," Lewis had said.

"It's Dana, please," she said, taking the seat next to him. 

"And Agent Mulder?" he asked.

In the middle of stealing a softly padded stool from the table over, Hathaway gave him a sharp look, lips pursed unhappily. Glancing at Dana as her face fell, Lewis instantly understood he'd put his foot in it.

"He…he disappeared a few weeks ago."

"I'm sorry," he said. "What happened?"

"I don't know," She said, shrugging with a little shake of her head at the same time. "I wasn't with him."

"Dana's on leave," droned Hathaway in his most impersonable, quietly sympathetic voice. "She thought she'd come back to England for a change of scenery."

"I can understand that," replied Lewis. He watched her watch the crowd, her gaze flicking from person to person as if they might hold the key to Mulder's absence. "Will you be staying in Oxford long?"

She shook her head again. Sipped her wine.

The evening wore on, the crowd waxing and waning while he, Hathaway, and Dana remained, talking over what had happened the year previous, where Alex Krycek might be, the changes at the Bureau with the new administration, her new career at Quantico. Her new partner.

"It's not that he's not a good investigator," she said, blinking slowly. She flipped one hand in the air loosely. "But he lacks imagination. He's unwilling to look at the possibilities. He won't even entertain them!"

Lewis decided the time was fine to spend a penny, and hoped Hathaway would have better luck in changing the topic of conversation. Not that the ins and outs of American policing weren't fascinating, but it had been a long day and they had two consecutive days off. He didn't really fancy talking shop when there were other things to do. Of course, he had yet to decide what those things were, but that wasn't the point.

He did his business, washed his hands as two blokes entered the room. He gave them the once over in the mirror, decided he had no evidence besides gut instinct to tell him what drugs they were about to sell to one another, and headed back upstairs. Dana was still seated at the table, looking small and lonely, her Titian hair rich in the warm yellow light of the lamp above her head. Hathaway was next to her, and they were...

They broke apart, Dana working on a hint of a smile, then kissed again.

It was not a friendly peck on the cheek.

Lewis didn't know how long he stood there, except that at some point Hathaway was steering him into the hall and then the short few steps through the double doors and outside.

The twilight air held the promise of winter, a chill dampness that struck at his bones more and more with each passing year. Lewis rounded on Hathaway as soon as they were clear of the pub steps. "Tell me. And don't lie! Are you leaving? With her? Is that why she's here? To see you?"

"No! God, no!" Hathaway frowned, reached for Lewis, thought better of it. "She spent the night at my flat."

Lewis reeled back against the iron railing. The bars pressed into his back and he welcomed the distraction. He remembered the marks he'd seen on the back of Hathaway's neck, the way they had contrasted with the blue of his shirt. That didn't mean they had slept together. Right? "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Hathaway shook his head helplessly. "I didn't think it mattered. You and I, we weren't, nothing had happened yet. I didn't even know there was a possibility that anything _could_ happen."

Lewis nodded, thinking hard. True enough, he hadn't had a clue that Hathaway had an interest in him. He would still be in the dark if - no, he had to think of what was happening right now. He looked up at Hathaway' pleading face, highlighted by the orange lights of the fake fabric fires from the door sconces. Trendy bullshit as far as he was concerned. Just a way to make the aged feel 'with it'. The question was, did he have a right to be angry? Hathaway was right, it wasn't like they had been together back then, and Hathaway's past was none of his business. It shouldn't matter, but it did, it _did!_

"I'm sorry."

"No…don't be," Lewis pushed himself off the railing. "It's just the shock of it."

"I…invited her back with us."

"You _what?_ "

Hathaway shoved his hands in his pockets. "She doesn't have a hotel, she's grieving. She could use a friend or two."

"So you thought you'd volunteer us," snapped Lewis, momentarily angry beyond belief. The cheek of the man!

"I didn't think you'd want her at my place."

Said quietly, shutting Lewis up immediately. Because Hathaway was right, Lewis didn't want them alone together. "Fine. Let's go."

Together they returned to the pub, only to find Dana pushing her way through the ever increasing crowd. She caught sight of them, smiled grimly. "All right?" asked Lewis.

"I'm on the verge of pulling my weapon," she replied. 

"I bet," he said, for he had noticed the head to toe admiring looks she had gotten. "I have a proposition for you. Come stay with me while you're in Oxford."

"That's very kind of you, but I'm sure the Old Parsonage has rooms available."

"Come on," Lewis felt his heart trip a bit faster. "Keep an old man company. There might be spag bol for dinner."

"I've eaten far worse," she quipped, her smile dropping as she put her black coat on. "As long as you don't mind?"

Lewis met Hathaway' glance above her head. "Come on, pet, let's get you to my place. I've got a spare room."

"He even has spare towels," intoned Hathaway.

Dana looked back and forth between them. "As long as I'm not putting you out."

Lewis shook his head. "Course you won't."

 _Of course you won't,_ when the truth was that she had put him out, just not in the way anyone reasonable would have expected. Lewis tossed the book to one side, gathered up the mp3 player instead. Turning it on, he scrolled through the menu before finally settling upon Beethoven's 6th symphony, Pastorale. A lovely, calming piece to settle his soul for a little while.

He woke up sometime later, groggy and disoriented. The light was off - hadn't he left it on? Yet there was light coming in through the open door - hadn't he closed it, earlier? Disentangling himself from the earbud wiring, he shoved player and blanket to the side and swung his legs out of bed. With an almighty yawn he stretched, got up. As usual, the dichotomy between thirst and the need to urinate was striking. He was absolutely parched, but that would have to wait until he visited the toilet. 

Minutes later, drained and watered, he padded barefoot out of the bathroom to see what Dana and Hathaway were doing. He was torn between living in ignorance versus knowing the truth. He wished there was a way to know without knowing. 

Quiet. It was so quiet. Just as he began to wonder if they had left for Hathaway's after all, a sound from the living room caught his attention - a low vocalization that wasn't quite a gasp. Lewis placed his feet slowly, careful not to interrupt whatever was happening, make an awareness of where he was. 

They were on the couch. 

Much to his surprise, they were not naked. Dana was still wearing her shirt and skirt, while Hathaway was shirtless, his trousers and pants shoved halfway down his thighs.

Dana was astride Hathaway, holding him close as she moved. Lewis remembered what it was like, having a woman in the depths of her own passion, the tight wet heat, the sweet suction that made a man forget the world existed. Hathaway was certainly affected, staring at her wide-eyed while she took her pleasure from his body. Her hips quickened, lost their rhythm and stuttered- a little moan - and she jerked to a full stop, collapsing against Hathaway.

Lewis licked suddenly dry lips, brushed his hand over his forehead. Even in the hallway the smell of her was a heady perfume, and he couldn't help but think back to his days with Val. What he knew now, having listened carefully to his friends and what they didn't discuss-- because he was a copper and listened carefully to what people didn't say - what he knew now was that their sexual relationship had been unusually active. He was still grateful he had gotten the snip. After that last time, god, it had been awful to see her like that, he had determined that no matter what she wanted, he couldn't see her go through that again. Due to her reactions to the pill, the only other option had been to abstain from sex completely, and that was a life neither one of them could contemplate.

"All right?" asked Hathaway, his voice husky.

"More than all right," Dana answered.

From where he stood, Lewis couldn't see her face, but she sounded like she was smiling.

"Now you have to sit still for me, James."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then let me do what I want."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. Bossy in bed - somehow he wasn't surprised. Intrigued, and more than a little turned on, he watched her raise up on her knees a bit, using Hathaway's shoulders for balance, swivel her hips and sink back down. She did it again, and Hathaway said, "Oh shit - "

"You like?"

"I like it a lot," he answered breathlessly. "Don't stop."

"Take your hands off me."

"Fuck! Dana - "

"Do it or I _will_ stop - "

Hathaway did what she wanted, fisting the couch seat instead. Lewis didn't know what she was doing with her rise and fall, but it was certainly effective. Hathaway was gasping now, his chest flushing as she continued her ministrations. 

For his part Lewis was well versed in what came next. He knew that look Hathaway' face, relished every opportunity to put there himself. It was unexpectedly arousing to see him at someone else's whims. He wasn't going to interrupt their fun, yet surely it was alright if he palmed himself a little? It wasn't like they knew he was there, watching, right? He deserved to get a little something out of this craziness, too.

"Come on, James," panted Dana, bouncing on his lap. 

Hathaway groaned. He planted his feet and began to push up into her downstrokes. 

The end was approaching for him, Lewis could see it in his pained expression, the speed at which he moved. 

"That's it, right there!" 

Dana did something that made Hathaway whine, then go rigid. He twitched hard once, twice, three times - a fourth. She resettled on him, caressed his sides while he caught his breath. 

"You're lovely," he gasped, running his hands up and down her smooth white thighs.

"You're not so bad yourself," she answered, swooping down to give him a peck on his nose. "Have you got anything - ?"

"Oh, right, um," Hathaway pulled his jeans up a bit, fished around in one of the pockets producing a handkerchief, offered it to her with an embarrassed little smile. 

As Dana shifted off of Hathaway, handkerchief at the ready, Lewis stepped back. Now he knew what they were like together, and it wasn't anything like what he had imagined. They were two good-looking people who clearly found one another attractive, and though their sex had been caring and conscientious, it was obviously not something that happened out of intimate love. Or, no, that wasn't right. There _was_ great intimacy between the two of them, it was the love that was missing.

In the hallway, Lewis wasn't sure what to do next. He wasn't sleepy, didn't want to watch tv, didn't particularly want to read, either. In fact, there was only one thing he wanted to do, and that wasn't going to happen, not tonight, anyway. Padding into the kitchen he pondered the contents of the refrigerator, chilled air wafting over him while he tried to figure out what he wanted. Ultimately he decided on the last of the opened wine. Brown Brothers, he'd have to remember the name the next time he was at Sainsbury's. 

Brown Brothers, right. Next it would be smudge marks in the glasses, dust on the running boards. Shaking his head at his own avoidance tactics, Lewis settled against the counter for a good long think with glass in hand.

First of all, despite his shock and, yes, anger at Hathaway' initial suggestion, now that he'd seen the two of them together, he had no fear of Hathaway leaving him. At least not over Dana.

Secondly, did that mean he was scared Hathaway _would_ eventually go?

Thirdly, thirdly...if Hathaway left him, their working relationship would suffer. Lewis was no fool, he knew plenty of May-December relationships had gone the way of the Dodo, he understood in a way that Hathaway didn't how little it took to break things apart.

Fourthly, was 'fourthly' even a word? Anyway, fourthly, he selfishly wanted Hathaway all to himself. As did every lover, obviously.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Lewis choked on his wine. Coughing and gasping, he thumped himself on his chest while Hathaway got a glass of water.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Hathaway said quietly, handing him the water and hovering while he drank it all in one draught.

"Jesus, man!" Lewis snapped equally softly. His heart was pounding, and not just because he had swallowed wrong, either. Hathaway was shirtless, as was Lewis,but barefoot and dressed only in partially unbuttoned jeans. His hair was mussed, his eyes slightly bloodshot, his lips swollen from kissing. His pale skin marked red, here and there. He smelled of sex and looked entirely edible. As cliched as it was all Lewis's blood flowed south in an instant. Maybe it showed in his face, for Hathaway was in his space immediately, crowding him against the counter, close enough to kiss but almost sniffing his jaw and neck instead. 

"Did you watch? I hoped you would. I wanted you to."

 _Christ!_ Overwhelmed, Lewis shoved him away, quickly stepped to the other side of the kitchen. "Why? Did you want me to be jealous? Because I'm not."'

Hathaway' gaze dropped to Lewis' crotch, rose again. "I can tell."

There was nothing he could do about the blush that hit him, heating his cheeks until they felt incandescent. Lewis scrubbed one hand over his face, suddenly feeling old and tired and quite useless. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't want to say anything you don't feel. Good, bad, in-between. Thing is, Robbie, I love you, and I love that you're letting me do this for Dana."

 _To_ Dana, more like.

"I know you understand what I mean, don't pretend otherwise."

The worst part of it was that he did. Her melancholy and grief were palpable, almost a cloud hanging in the air around her. So why did it have to be Hathaway? Could no one else provide whatever it was she needed?

"We share a history, the three of us," continued Hathaway. 

"Four."

"Four of us," Hathaway amended with a single nod. "And now one of us is no longer here, and it's up to you and I to relieve her burden. The Bible does say it's better to give than to receive."

Open-mouthed, Lewis stared at Hathaway. Had he just - "Did you just - ?"

There was a definite twinkle in Hathaway's eye, and then he winked.

"You're terrible," muttered Lewis with resentful fondness. After a moment he said, "I'm all mixed up inside, James."

"I know. But you don't have to be."

"I feel a fool for saying yes, and a bastard if I'd said no."

"Please stop," Hathaway approached Lewis slowly, as if he were a wild animal to be tamed. He stopped short, though he could have reached out and touched Lewis. "When you're ready…come to me. I'll be waiting."

Somehow Lewis finds himself back in the spare bedroom with Hathaway and Dana. Hathaway is holding his hand, which means he must have led Lewis here and Lewis doesn't know how that's happened without him being aware of it. Is this all some crazy dream? The only problem with his theory is that he knows he's actually awake. Dana is all the way at the other edge of the bed under the top sheet, her back turned to them, sound asleep. She must have come here while Hathaway was distracting him in the kitchen. Hathaway sits on the bed, still holding Lewis's hand

"Will you stay?"

"James..." This is between the two of you, he wants to say, and doesn't, not with Hathaway looking at him like that, a plea for understanding and forgiveness all at the same time. "All right, then."

Hathaway stands and lets his jeans fall, steps out of them and slides onto the bed. He holds the sheet up for Lewis, who climbs in after, leaving his pyjama bottoms on. Lewis is immediately enveloped in coal warmth as Hathaway slings his arm over Lewis's chest. An explosive sigh sounds in his hear, one that turns to steady breathing as Hathaway relaxes. 

At first Lewis lies still and stiff, afraid of waking up Dana and startling the hell out of her. He doesn't need an ugly scene, not tonight. 

"Are you tired?" whispers Hathaway, speaking directly against Lewis's ear, the wash of his breath sending shivers down Lewis's back.

Lewis shakes his head a little, his hair sounding loud against the pillowcase. "Not particularly. "

"Hm, it's been a long night."

"Early morning," Lewis corrects, for no particular reason other than needing to have the last word.

Hathaway slides his arm all stealthy-like down Lewis's front to rest his hand on Lewis's hip. He does a little drum roll with his fingers, as if to say 'hello!', when Lewis is highly aware of where his hand is and what it's doing. A little lower and yeah, that hand could be right where Lewis really wants it, where he's wanted it since he's seen Hathaway and Dana kissing at the pub. 

But now Dana's in the bed with them. He's a modest man, has been ever since, well, he just was, and has been for a long time. At his age he's seen too much to want to partake in public sex, even within the confines of his own home. 

"She won't wake up," says Hathaway. He lips Lewis's ear. "If you're quiet. Can you be quiet, Robbie?"

Shite, could he? He'd managed as the kids had grown older, and once they'd left home, that had changed right quick for both he and Val. He's a bit lightheaded as all the blood in his big head flows to the smaller. He whispers back, "Okay."

After that there's no stopping Hathaway. He surges halfway on top of Lewis, that hand resting on his hip, snakes under the waistband of his pj bottoms. Having the life kissed out of him at the same time is not distracting Lewis one bit; he's hyper aware of where Hathaway's fingers are, how they tease the tip of his cock until he's whimpering. Hathaway won't stop kissing him either, swallowing every sound Lewis makes. He can't help the tiny rolls of his hips, can only hope Hathaway's long body dampens the proof of what's happening on top of the mattress, should Dana wake up and wonder what the hell is going on. Gripping Hathaway's back with both hands, Lewis begins to feel his orgasm rolling upwards. Hathaway's still concentrating on his prick, gently squeezing the head, rolling his palm against it, driving Lewis mad with the desire for completion. 

Finally Lewis breaks away from the kissing, presses his head back into the pillow uncontrollably. Glancing at Dana quickly, he sees she's still asleep, thank God.

"I think I like you like this," murmurs Hathaway softly. "So eager you don't care who's in the room. What do you think she'll do, if she wakes up?"

He doesn't want to think about it.

"Maybe she'll just watch, or maybe she'll join in. Would you like that, Robbie? Would you want her to touch me or you, I wonder?"

Lewis can't speak. The image Hathaway' words bring; he can just see the gleam of Dana's eyes over Hathaway's shoulder, the way she would add more bites to the ones she's already made on Hathaway's shoulders, maybe doing Doctor things to Hathaway and making him sing. _"Fuck -"_

Hathaway says something in Latin, or maybe Italian. Even if he'd been compos mentis Lewis couldn't have understood, but this was Hathaway, and his voice, and Lewis knew that whatever it is he's saying, it's probably deeply meaningful and all that and he just doesn't care because Hathaway's doing that thing behind his balls again and it's the worst-best thing he's ever felt and oh!

"Just like that," Hathaway says, except Lewis can hear Dana saying it too, as she had done on the couch earlier and it's all getting to be too much. 

Lewis grips Hathaway' working arm hard,feels the muscles and tendons flex while he takes Lewis's cock in hand and starts using short, rough strokes, thumbing over the increasingly wet head of his cock every so often.

It seems only too soon and too late before Lewis is hurtling towards an orgasm that can't be stopped, not that he wants to.

"Be quiet now," Hathaway says lowly, not quiet at all, and Lewis is gone, curling upwards with a groan torn from the very depths of his gut. Heart pounding, sweat rolling into the corners of his eyes, he flops back onto the pillow with a grunt after the fact.

 _"Christ,"_ he gasps, completely drained in more than one way. Swallowing, he glances over Hathaway's shoulder again and yeah, Dana still has her back turned, still appears to be sleeping like the dead.

"Better?" asks Hathaway with a small, smug little smile.

"Bastard."

Hathaway breaks into a wide grin. He kisses Lewis on the cheek, shifts until he's between Lewis and Dana once more. "Good night."

Lewis is inclined to comment back, but now he actually does feel relaxed and able to sleep. Hathaway's still a bastard, though.

~*~

Lewis wakes up slowly. He's warm, there's a hot body next to him moving a little bit, the murmur of a quiet voice. He drifts a little, enjoying how relaxed he feels, the knowledge that he's off the rota and doesn't have to be a work for the next two days. He has no plans beyond reading, a few glasses of wine, maybe take a run up to Manchester to see Lyn and Jack, do something with Hathaway. 

The mattress dips, making Lewis roll a little to his left. Hathaway isn't usually so shifty of a morning - Lewis is abruptly very awake and staring at the pattern of light coming through the blinds on the ceiling. He freezes, hoping neither of the people beside him have become aware of his state. When it becomes clear that they are...entertaining themselves, he casually looks over, feels his heart kick into different rhythm at the sight. 

They are mostly under the sheet, as is he, only their torsos visible. Hathaway is lying on top of Dana, their arms intertwined above her head. They are either kissing awkwardly, with Hathaway's head over Dana's shoulder, or they're looking intently at one another. Lewis can't see their faces and now they've gone quiet. Alright, maybe their mouths aren't moving, but Lewis gradually becomes aware that other things are going on under the sheet. Nothing necessarily visible, yet his leg is touching someone else's; another hairy leg, and that could only be Hathaway's knobby knee knocking into his own.

Should he say 'good morning' and leave them to it? Hathaway had been emphatic in his desire to for Lewis to see him and Dana together the night before - which was exciting at the time, but would she be so amenable now? He can admit...yes, he had found it incredibly arousing, just as he did now. Keeping his movements slow, Lewis surreptitiously grasps his cock and gives it a gentle squeeze and a slight stroke, almost more of a tickle than a fondle. Dana says something he can't understand. Whatever it is, it makes Hathaway rumble with laughter. Lewis smiles, because he loves it when Hathaway laughs, and he wants to hear him do it again. Hathaway suddenly looks up and over, right into Lewis's eyes.

"Morning," Lewis says, stilling his hand and hoping Hathaway won't notice.

"Mm, morning," Hathaway says.

Dana turns her head too, only one blue eye visible through the fall of her hair.She mumbles something Lewis assumes means 'morning' as well. 

He doesn't know what to do. Should he stay in bed with the both of them? Or leave them to...whatever Hathaway's doing that keeps making Dana's face twitch. For his part, Hathaway shifts onto her other side, leaving Dana between the two of them. Someone's stomach gurgled - there is a strong possibility it's Lewis's own, not that he would ever admit it - and Hathaway sits up. The sheet falls back enough to show the ivory sweep of Dana's back, the delicate curve of her bum, the blue-tinted vein on Hathaway's pelvis, and nothing further.

"That's it," Hathaway announces, reaching for something on the floor. "I'm starved. Breakfast?"

"Yes please," said Dana, closing her eyes and relieving Lewis of trying to come up with some pleasantry. "I want everything."

Hathaway, now wearing pants that did nothing to conceal his erection, winks at Lewis, bends over and stage-whispers into her ear, "No change there, then."

Lewis sits up too, keeping the sheet firmly over his lap and, not incidentally, keeping Dana covered at well. She rests her cheek on her arms, allowing him to see the swell of her breast against the mattress. He hasn't felt a woman's breast in so long - he can almost feel the weight of it in his palm already, how her nipple would harden - stop right there, Robbie Lewis. She's here for Hathaway, not you. Which means he should get out of bed, too. 

Hathaway has left, wearing only his pants, but Lewis feels the need to be a little more covered. He has no idea if she knew that Hathaway and Lewis are in...something. Lewis hesitates to call it a relationship, because he isn't sure Hathaway consider it one? Or something? Whenever Lewis tries to quantify what they are doing, he skitters away from the R-word. All he knows is that Hathaway is important to him, and that he can't imagine not ever wanting Hathaway, even though it has taken him by surprise.

Right, he can stay here and ruminate further about Hathaway or he can just get up and get some damn coffee. Moving smoothly, so as not to disturb Dana, Lewis slides out from under the sheet, winces at the pull where his pyjama bottoms are stuck to his skin. Another good reason to leave Dana to her rest. He avoids the kitchen, tempting though it is, with Hathaway singing something churchy, as is his tendency when he's happy. Back in his bedroom Lewis peels the bottoms off and slips into his robe. He grabs fresh towels and heads towards the bathroom for a fast shower.

By the time he's clean and dressed, breakfast is on the table. Hathaway glances at him and smiles, the kind of smile that says everything is right in the world. It heartens Lewis immensely. Even so, Hathaway doesn't give him a morning kiss or touch him in any way. 

Hathaway has not shirked. He's cooked a full breakfast, along with a covered bowl of what turns out to be porridge oats with a glistening pool of butter. In case Dana wants any, presumably. "You are a _star_ ," Lewis says, helping himself to a slice of rapidly cooling toast. Funny, he could have sworn he'd gotten rid of that toast rack. It had been a comment from Mulder, actually, that had been the catalyst. 'The fastest way to get something from hot to cold,' Mulder had groused, the morning before Alex Krycek and his cronies had happened.

"What are our plans for the day, anyway?" asks Lewis, once his hunger has been sated.

Hathaway shrugs. "I thought a walk would do us all a world of good - good morning!"

For a second Lewis is horribly confused, then he sees movement out of the corner of his eye and realizes that Dana has finally gotten out of bed. She looks good, wearing Hathaway' black button down of the night before and nothing else. Maybe. If he didn't know she favored black, he would have thought it was too stark a color for her, yet somehow it suited her. Maybe it was the hair that warmed it up. That, and the clear blue of her eyes.

She hides a yawn behind her hand. "Morning. Is there any coffee left?"

"A woman after my own heart," says Hathaway, turning in place to pour her a cup. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," Dana pulls out one of the chairs and sits down, inhaling the scent of her coffee. After a preliminary sip, she looks directly at Lewis, eyebrows twitching. "Like a log."

His cheeks flaming with embarrassment, Lewis hastily swallows the rest of his coffee and tries to recover his equilibrium, because while it is the modern age and all, he's not used to somewhat random women commenting upon his sex life. "What will you be doing the rest of your time here?"

Her expression smooths over immediately. "I need to visit the Ashmolean, and then speak to Professor Rhodri Jones at Shrewsbury College."

"Was he one of Mulder's professors?" asks Hathaway, smearing toast with thick shred marmalade.

"No, not directly. I believe his wife was, however."

Hathaway eyes Lewis. "Are you coming with us?" 

Lewis shakes his head. "Nope. I'm seeing Dr. Mecklin - " he makes a face at Hathaway's smug glee, because Hathaway enjoys the sadism of dentists - "and then I'm off to get some pressies for our Lyn, collect some dry cleaning, that sort of thing." 

"Let's meet back at the Trout for dinner," suggests Hathaway, looking back and forth between the two of them."

Dana shrugs, Lewis nods. He finishes his breakfast and leaves them to it. He goes out to lay in more supplies, as it is clear Hathaway has no intention of letting Dana out of his sight, at least not until such time as she shoos him away. They will probably need their strength anyway. Hathaway tends to be ravenous the day after the night before...or the morning of...even the afternoon. Oh, who's he kidding, Hathaway burns through extra calories during sex like a starving lion lays waste to wildebeest. Lewis buys more wine and beer as well as the usual; eggs, bread, bacon, sausage. Vegetables, because Hathaway has a thing about vegetables. More importantly, he has this idea that Lewis never eats vegetables, which is ridiculous, he's had an allotment for more years than he cares to count! Hathaway is a funny one. And it is a cute foible, not that Lewis will ever dare admit that aloud to anyone. 

Nothing in the bags is going to spoil, so Lewis takes himself for coffee and a forbidden pastry. A little treat, before he returns to the reality playing itself out in his flat. Watching students and tourists and the other good folk of Oxford go about their business, he finally allows himself to think about what to do next. Or maybe that's his problem, he's thinking about it instead of facing it head on. He's survived the night, he will survive the day, too.

Home it is.

Another fight through traffic successfully won, Lewis brings the bags into the kitchen. "Hello?" he calls out, standing still and listening hard. Silence. He puts away everything he's bought, fires up the kettle for tea, changes his mind just as the water begins to boil and opens a bottle of beer instead. When he's done, he brushes his teeth, goes to his room and removes shoes and socks, checks the answer phone and then his mobile's messages and texts. Unbelievably, Innocent has left him alone. No odd events to attend in black tie, no body sprawled across the ground with connections to superiors.

Opening the armoire, he notes the lack of room and curses. He keeps forgetting he has no room in there, and that the built-in closet in the spare bedroom is also pretty full. Nothing for it, he has to clean one or the other, and he has to do it now. Selecting a few hangers of trousers, jeans, and shirts he doesn't often wear any more, he heads towards the other bedroom. He's busy tossing items he no longer likes on the floor when he hears voices in the hall. About time they were back, he thinks, trying to hurry himself along and failing miserably, because honestly, what if he goes somewhere hot again? Those linen jackets were comfortable in high humidity - he shakes his head, puts them back on the railing.

It's late afternoon by the time he finishes with the spare bedroom. Time to meed Dana and Hathaway, have a bite to eat and a pint, then move on to the next thing.

During their meal they talk about nothing in particular. By 'nothing in particular', Lewis notices Hathaway's making a point of keeping things literary, with occasional forays into crimes related to the time period of the work, or the author's involvement in crime. Which in turn leads to Dana discussing some of the finer points of Forensic Pathology, which earns them more than a few funny looks from their fellow diners. Lewis figures she's grown so used to being with Mulder and others in Law Enforcement that she's forgotten to not talk about those things in public. Or maybe she simply doesn't care. Either way, he's content to listen and interject the odd comment, enjoying Hathaway's happiness in the process. Makes him a little sad that others don't see this side of Hathaway all that often. Perhaps he's projecting, though. Hathaway has friends outside of work. There's his band, and Lewis has seen him texting and smiling from time to time. That was proof, right?

 

After their meal they took their drinks outside (wine, cider, orange) despite the cool temperature. The sun is shining, but low on the horizon and Lewis can see no reason they can't enjoy it, even if winter is in the air. They take a table and sit in silence for a minute or two. Then Hathaway looks at the table and coughs, says, "I know it's a little late for this discussion, but medically, I'm uh, clean."

One corner of Dana's mouth twists up. "Yes."

 _Christ!_ It's been so long since Lewis has had to think of any consequences from sex that he blinks in surprise. And, of course, Dana's a woman - his heart jumps because _Jesus_ , is there any chance of little Hathaways running underfoot? As soon as he thinks it, Dana starts shaking her head.

"You don't need to worry about the pitter patter of tiny feet," she says, looking away from them both. "I can't have children."

"I'm sorry," says Hathaway. He seems genuinely sorrowful, which surprises Lewis. 

Dana's smile is the kind of happy one sees on a corpse; thin and bloodless. "You didn't know."

Hathaway nods, opens his mouth, pauses. Tilts his head in Lewis's direction. 

Dana flicks a glance at Lewis before cutting back to Hathaway, her eyes growing dark as her expression smooths over. "All right."

Wait, what? Lewis blinks, looks at Hathaway. What's just happened?

Now both of them are looking at him, and he doesn't know what to do or say. 

Finally Dana says, "I think you've shocked him."

"That would be a first," answers Hathaway.

Without saying anything more, Hathaway drains his glass of cider. Setting his glass back on the table, he leans forward on his elbows and hunkers down in the way of tall people the world over. Looks back and forth between Dana and Lewis. Dana has the slightest smile on her face, while Lewis thinks his heart might burst out of his chest. 

Lewis is hyper-aware of everything around him. There's a queer tension in the air, something that makes people step out of their way as they want back to the car. And then there's the way Dana's hair glints under the street lamps as full night descends, the fact that Hathaway hasn't smoked a single cigarette in, since the day before, or maybe even the day before that, how soft each of them is to the other. Dana in particular seems very pleased with herself, and Hathaway appears to be as nonchalant about this as he never is where anyone female is concerned, ever. Laura is the exception, of course. And Innocent, too, though every now and again he has his moments with her. Lewis is most anxious about the whole thing.

Whatever it is that's going to happen.

They take a short cut through a close, where Hathaway rounds into Dana's step and pushes her against the brick wall to snog the life out of her. Surprised, and feeling like the proverbial third wheel, Lewis shoves his hands into his pockets and turns halfway from them. It's fine, it's all fine, they will do whatever and he can keep himself to himself, it's all right. He accepts this is the way it's going to be, though it is still a shock to see. Any other bloke would be mightily unhappy, but the decision of the night previous still holds true; Dana has no intention of taking Hathaway away from him.

"Come on," Hathaway says, plucking at Lewis's coat sleeve as he sweeps past, hand in hand with Dana.

Lewis catches up with them a moment later, the sight of Dana's fuck-me black pumps and the ease with which she holds Hathaway's hand weirdly thrilling.

In the car, he's relieved to find Hathaway sitting next to him as usual, instead of in the back with Dana. It's good, there's a chance he'd get into an accident watching the two of them in the rear view mirror, otherwise. 

When they get home, Lewis gets the door open for an entangled Dana and Hathaway to fall through, just as his neighbor ambles down the hall, eyebrows raised and ready to have a look-see as he passes. 

"Evenin'," Lewis says, hastily following his companions inside and shutting the door before Etchemendy has a chance to spread the gossip. While his companions stumble down the hallway, Lewis picks up the trail of clothing on the floor, shoves shoes out of the way. He's taking everything out of his pockets and putting them onto the phone table when Hathaway strides up to him, his belt undone, his jeans hanging loosely from his hips in outright invitation for idle hands to do the devil's work. Hathaway takes Lewis by the wrist and begins pulling him towards the bedroom.

"I know I've forgotten what women are like," Lewis says with a befuddled little shrug. "But I thought blokes are supposed to be so much easier. Undemanding."

"Are you calling me easy?" asks Hathaway, turning and walking backwards for a couple of steps.

"I think we all knew that, James." 

"Ha ha." 

Lewis grins. "All I'm saying is that men are less demanding." 

"Obviously I need to up my game," replies Hathaway, stepping into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, Lewis finds the mouth-watering sight of Dana Scully, still clad in Hathaway's black shirt of the day before. She looks feral, leaning against the wall with her hands behind her back. She smirks, eyes half-lidded in the low light of the lamp she's turned on. It's a low wattage bulb which throws warm yellow light through an off-white paper shade, casting the room aglow. Too bad the fireplace doesn't work. Lewis could just imagine it, turning all their bodies golden...well, the lamp was already doing the same thing to one degree or another, wasn't it? Still, this whole evening is fantastic incentive to get the chimney cleaned, isn't it? 

Dana gets on the bed, kneels there with her hands in her lap. Which is fine with Lewis, he can stay in the shadows while they do their thing. Because Hathaway likes it when he watches. Which remains an unexpected surprise, as is how much Lewis likes it, too. Or at least he likes watching the two of them together. He does feel reticent about disturbing the two of them. Hathaway may have invited Lewis to join them, but that doesn't mean Dana feels the same way.

Hathaway rips off his long-sleeved tee shirt, displaying the fine and long muscles of his back, usually hidden underneath his tailored suits. He gets on the bed to face her, takes her face in both hands and practically devours her. For her part, she shoves her hands underneath his jeans to grab his arse. Lewis slowly undresses, leaving his pants on. No need to frighten Dana before they'd even started. There's just enough room for him, so he lays down on his side behind Hathaway, taking the advantage to rub Hathaway's bony ankle.

Time slows.

Lewis slides one hand up the back of Hathaway's thigh until he reaches the delicious crease where leg meets arse. Hathaway's jeans are looser, now that Dana's hands are inside them. He's curling his hips back and forth, and it seems to Lewis that Hathaway can't decide what he wants to feel more, the woman in front of him or the man behind. Lewis simply watches them, palming himself from time to time, careful to do no more than that. He's not sure what his role is in all of this, though he thinks back to the end of their meal at The Trout with increasing frequency. Dana had accepted what Hathaway said, and seemed to agree with it - but therein lies the crux of the matter; exactly what are her expectations? Lewis is not a stupid man, he understands what Hathaway hopes for, what Hathaway wants to do, he just isn't sure if Dana is on the same page.

Besides, he's curious. 

He's become used to a man's body, its hard planes and unexpected softnessess. He's gotten used to looking up for kisses, used to meeting strength against his own. Has, in fact, gotten used to morning erections along his backside. 

So he watches Hathaway take his shirt off of Dana, not by unbuttoning it, rather pushing it up and over her head, revealing her body fully to Lewis for the first time. His impression of her remains the same; she is tiny, but quite muscular. Her pubic hair is neatly trimmed, and the scent of her arousal hits his backbrain and travels straight to his prick, which answers with a steady throb to the rhythm of his heart. She's busy with with Hathaway' mouth, and responds with a high-pitched grunt after Lewis gets up on one elbow to cup her sex and dip his fingers in. She's wet, sopping, her hips rocking on his hand even as he draws back to taste her essence. 

When he's done licking his hand clean, he glances up to see her watching him in turn while Hathaway does something to the other side of her neck. If asked, he wouldn't call her expression blank, more that he doesn't understand what's going on inside her head. Her mouth is open slightly, her gaze direct and dark before her eyelids shutter down. Lewis lies back, because his neck is beginning to get a crick in it, and it's easier to see them this way even if the angle's funny.

Hathaway pulls away to stand and push his jeans and pants to the floor. His erection bobs tantalizingly close to Lewis, who doesn't reach out to grab it. He is impressed with his own self control. After clambering over Lewis' legs with a muttered 'sorry', Hathaway twists onto his back next to Lewis, leaving Dana on the remaining third of the bed. Rearranging the pillow underneath his head and neck, Hathaway pats his chest and says, "Come on. You know you want to."

Lewis is surprised to see a blush steal over Dana's cheeks, but after a little, self-deprecating laugh, she does as asked, sliding one well-formed thigh over Hathaway's hips. She knee walks up his torso until she is literally hovering over his face. Hathaway smacks his lips and says, "The best meal of the day," which embarrasses them all, because it's such a ridiculously campy thing to say, as if [Julian Clary](https://youtu.be/5Z678EbkFdo) was in the room with them, sucking his teeth and not quite winking at the audience.

Dana says, "Get to it, Sergeant."

Hathaway gets to work, leaving Dana to fall forward and hang on to the headboard. Lewis is well familiar with Hathaway' talents. He's always known that smokers have oral fixations, but had never thought about the possibilities when it came to sex. Hathaway has given him some opinions on the subject. 

Lewis closes his eyes to and listens to Dana's quiet, breathy little moans, Hathaway' equally low vocalization, the juicy sounds they're making, and after a few minutes, as Dana's movements get a little more frantic, he can't take it any more. He removes his pants, gets to his knees and moves to sit astride Hathaway as well, giving him a quick, light stroke before moving up further, leaving Hathaway' cock to stab ineffectually at his back. There's room for his hands on Dana's hips as Hathaway has his own right around her bum, controlling her as much as he can. Lewis takes her by the hips and moves right up against her back, sucking on her shoulder and getting a mouthful of hair for his trouble. She whips her head to one side, leaving her neck mostly free of hair and he takes the invitation seriously, kissing her hard, biting her a little bit, because she seems like the type of woman who might like that sort of thing.

And she does, leaning her head even more to the side.

Under his fingertips he can feel smooth skin, soft and smooth, save for the scars. Despite the dimness of the room, he's seen the splotch of scar tissue from a bullet wound. At some point in her career, she has been shot. Given the incident with Mulder and Krycek, what had happened to him, he's not all that surprised. Her line of work is not necessarily more dangerous than his own, after all, law enforcement is law enforcement no matter where in the world you live. The company she keeps, however, the people she goes after. He is more surprised that she's not dead. 

In fact, after he had been released from hospital (Mulder's improvised sling of ties having been of more help than Lewis had realized at the time), after he had been released from hospital, they had gone to a pub now long out of business. Mulder had insisted that their flats might be compromised, as was the high probability of their hotel being bugged. Hathaway later said he wanted to be skeptical, but given their adventures, they chose prudence. More details of their work had come to light, even though it sounded nuts. Dana had kept a low profile during their conversation, though she was clearly a believer. Truth be told, he half believed it himself. 

Dana's scars told another story, too. One of pain and close calls and god only knew. God, and Mulder. 

He feel the echoes of them under his fingertips, the lumps and nubbles of skin, the newer, more recent dark marks on her fair flesh. He knows there are other bruises that will never fade. All of which are unimportant in this timeless moment.

Lewis takes himself in hand and presses forward a little, testing the waters, so to speak. Dana doesn't say anything, so he continues on, leaning back to watch the fat head of his cock disappear between the lips of her vulva. She sucks in a breath and releases it slowly when he's fully seated. He keeps still, despite the tremendous desire to fuck her until he comes his brains out, because he's been told more than once that it's only polite for someone with his size to do so. Funny, how a big cock is all the rage amongst the boys, and a questionable object amongst all the girls.

Still, the heat and pressure and suction and wetness has his heart hammering, and just as he's about to ask if it's ok, she reaches back to grab his thigh. 

All right, then. 

Thrusting is glorious. He wants to weep with the joy of it, because it's not something he and Hathaway have been able to accomplish. While he has discovered the pleasure - oh, the pleasure of it - of getting stuffed up the arse, the unfortunate consequence of having a wide girth is that the by time it takes to get Hathaway ready, the mood has effectively been crushed. And even then, they've never been able to complete the act, as Hathaway gets too nervous and again, the mood sours. So to be inside someone with no preparation at all is intensely satisfying, and he wants it to last forever.

Lewis has to be careful now, and slow. Hathaway is on the other side and below Dana, and Lewis highly doubts he'll appreciate balls slapping his chin. He stifles a giggle at the image of an outraged Hathaway glaring at him, mouth full of quim. He tries to keep his strokes even and smooth, although Dana now has a white-knuckled grip on the headboard. She's caught between him and Hathaway and it's clear that she like it a lot, because she's trembling, though that could be from the strain of her position. Lewis abandons his view to caress her sides, to let his hands drift up and up until he's cupping her lovely breasts, which are larger than they appear from her tailored suits. He's not forgotten how malleable breasts are, exactly, so much as he's gotten used to Hathaway, and his lack thereof. The hardness of her nipples against his palms, the pebbling around her areolae. He fondles them, lets her nipples go between his fingers, doesn't get much of a response out of her. Light pinching doesn't do anything either, but the flicking of his fingernails, ah, that's what makes her arch against him to get away, what makes her squeal a bit.

She's starting to shake harder, her breath going erratic, hips jerking back from Hathaway's face in an obvious attempt not to sit fully on him to get what she wants.

What Lewis wants, too, for as soon as she does, so can he, because Hathaway will be out of the way. She's panting now, going rigid, and he can feel her tightening around his cock. And then she comes with long, drawn out high-pitched moans, nearly chinning him as she throws her head back in the depths of her pleasure. The sound turns him inside out and he loses what composure he's managed to retain since they left the pub.

He's close, but not close enough. Circling his arms around her shoulders and ribs, he pulls her back onto his lap because the angle is otherwise awkward for the both of them, and god knows his back is already in a world of hurt.

He pulls her back onto his lap, not even trying to stay off of Hathaway's hips. Oh yeah, this is better. No more strain on his back and yeah, while she's not helpless, he loves that she's taking it without complaint, if anything she's gasping again and he really doesn't care because yes, yes, _fuck_ yes his bones are turning to water as that peculiarly queer almost-pain of orgasm begins to overtake him. It flows through him like he's conducting lightning from the depths of his belly, branching from his balls through his pelvis and up and out and his eyelids slam shut and all he can do is hang on and ride out the interminable instant where everything is one with the universe and then he's back in his body and remembering to let her go because she's probably pretty uncomfortable by now. He releases his grip but doesn't let her go, even as he spasm inside her twice more. When he collects himself again he moves out of her and stiffly falls to one side, absolutely wrecked. 

"Sorry," he says to both of them, waving a hand in their direction. Regaining his breath, he tries not to fall off the bed as they readjust themselves. 

Neither one of them respond. Hathaway's sitting up, taking Dana by the arms and making her lie down next to Lewis. "Open up," he commands, even though she's already spreading her legs. 

Lewis is immensely turned on by the intensity of Hathaway's expression, the kind of desperation one only sees on a man's face when he has to fuck or get out his aggression on the Rugby pitch. He rolls on his side to watch. 

Dana's already reaching for Hathaway while he gets himself into position. He slides home with a grunt; she makes a little shocked sound. Hathaway doesn't hesitate, pumps into her hard and fast. Lewis wishes he was seventeen again and could take her again right after Hathaway. She would be dripping wet from their combined semen and her own fluids, hell, he wasn't wearing a condom, she probably was leaking already. He can, in fact, hear how wet she is and, judging by her open mouth and grasping, clutching hands upon Hathaway's back, the way she's rocking her hips up as much as she can, she's equally lost in the moment. With that realization, he's abruptly aware of the how the bed is quaking, the knocking of the headboard against the wall, the warmth in the room and how sweaty they all are, the unique aroma of an aroused woman.

"Oh!" she gasps. "James oh god oh James, more, more, _right there uh!"_

Hathaway has his hands under her back, keeping her in place with his hands under her shoulders, his head next to hers as he fucks her into the mattress. 

Then she goes stiff, back arched, legs stretched, toes spread. After a second she jackknifes up, nails visibly drawing blood on Hathaway's back. Her high-pitched shrieks have Lewis's hands on his cock, stroking in an attempt to get fat and heavy once Even though he knows nothing's going to happen.

It's the mood in the room, that feeling of out and out hedonism, that anything is possible. That anything is acceptable, that anything might be said and done and it will be okay. Or at least, something they can talk about afterward, if they so choose.

Hathaway continues on for a few more strokes before he presses into her, hard, and groans. Dana's still gasping, but she recovers quickly, hugging Hathaway tight before prodding his shoulder in the classic 'get off' gesture. Hathaway struggles up and in between Lewis and Dana, and then they all lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Lewis doesn't know what anyone else is thinking, but he's thirsty as hell. He gets up and puts on his pants, even though everyone's seen everything more than once, he puts on his pants because he has a fear of getting caught outside the bedroom without them on. As an officer of the law, he's been to more than one crime scene with naked people, and it never fails to make him wince internally. 

In any case, he sucks down a glassful of water, then nibbles on one of the carrot sticks he cut earlier while he waits for the wine carafe to fill. When it's done, he grabs a couple of glasses and takes the lot back to the bedroom. Shutting the door softly behind himself, he shows one of the glasses to Hathaway, who nods, then glances behind himself and shakes his head. Dana's curled up on her side, facing away from them, apparently sound asleep. Just as well, even though Lewis fears for his sheets. Ah well, they had been a lost cause ever since Dana had come into the pub the day before. And, if he looks at it in a certain light, _he's_ not in any wet spots. With a little hum of pleasure at that thought, he retakes his place in the bed, pulls the top sheet over himself now that the heat in the room has had a chance to dissipate a little.

"All right?" asks Hathaway, leaning over Lewis to put his glass on the table.

"Aye," agrees Lewis, because he is. The evening has turned out better than he thought it might. Morning is still to come, but he's feeling assured of himself.

Hathaway smiles down at him, a real one, fond, loving, his entire face filled with joy. He gives Lewis a peck on the cheek. "I knew you would be."

"Don't get used to the idea," warns Lewis. He says it lightly, yet he's serious.

"Only with her," whispers Hathaway, still staring down at Lewis.

Lewis nods. He can feel the truth of it. And, to be honest, she's the only one he would be interested in Hathaway sleeping with anyway. Especially if he can watch. Which is a shameful and embarrassing thing to admit to himself, but there it is. No use denying it.

Hathaway stares at him a moment longer, then leans over once again to turn off the light. Plunged into darkness, Lewis is relieved to get his privacy back. Though he's not aware of it, part of what makes Hathaway such a good copper is how observant he is. Well, every copper is trained to be observant, not all of them can keep it to themselves when it's not for work. Hathaway only brings out the big guns on instinct when it comes to Lewis, which is just as well. He's working on getting used to having his mind read. 

In the morning - Jesus, this is the second morning - tomorrow they're back on roation - Lewis wakes up pleasantly relaxed, the last dregs of whatever he's dreamt about putting him in a rainy Sunday morning tea-and-scones in bed with the paper kind of mood. Having a soft, rounded body snuggling against his own doesn't hurt, either. Her hair is tickly against his bare chest and he scooches it away with one hand. Hathaway is nowhere in sight, which probably means he's gone for a run or a row. Which also means there will be pastry when he gets back. 

"'M not asleep," Dana murmurs.

"Course not," Lewis says, even though he had been sure she was. "Sleep well?"

"Mm," she puts her arm around his torso, throws one leg over his thighs, which is when he realizes that yes, it _is_ morning, and the usual biological processes have occurred. There is also a naked woman in his bed.

She doesn't stop with the one leg. She's still moving, shifting, and before he knows it she's on top of him, lazily grinding her wetness against his hardness. 

Her eyes are a very clear blue when she asks, "All right?"

"Yeah," he breathes, because Hathaway isn't here and this is, quite frankly, a fantastic surprise.

She eases down on him, mouth open, eyes closed. Balancing against his chest with both hands, she moves. She's blood hot and slick, so slick. 

Lewis lets her control the pace, though it's killing him. She's obviously enjoying herself -

"Sorry," she finally says, starting to breathe hard. "It's just, I love how you feel inside me."

"Ah," he grunts. "That's good."

She looks down at him and grins. "You're big, Robbie Lewis."

"Does that make you, uh, a - " he thinks better of it at the last millisecond and shuts up, takes her by the hips to encourage her to fuck him faster.

"A size queen?" she says with a chuckle. "Hell yeah. You're pretty perfect for me. Not too long, nicely proportioned - "

"Stop talking!" he grunts, because he's going to come too soon if she doesn't. Dana grabs his wrist and tugs, then shoves his hand between her legs, redoubles her efforts. Her clitoris is hard against his knuckles and even though before he had ever thought of getting married he had always assumed a person had to be gentle in that area, once he met Val he was taught differently. He's not too far gone to know what she wants, and starts moving his fist in a tight circle so she gets the friction she needs.

Within moments she's making those sounds again, little moans, the kind a person can't help making when they're on the verge of an orgasm. Lewis plants his feet so he can thrust more easily when she's done. The way she keeps tightening around him, however, there's a good chance he's not going to have to do much. 

And so it proves, in the end. She comes, and three-four thrusts later, so does he. 

Goddamn, a fine start to the day.

Dana rests on him for a bit, then lifts off and rolls to the side, leaving him as the wet spot. After he gets his breath back, Lewis thinks about Val, looks at Dana, props himself up on his elbow again. He slides one hand over her belly and down, down, pets her dewy pubic hair. "More?"

She smiles a little, closes her eyes and nods. "Mm, yes please."

Some time later, when she can't take any more and his hands are cramping and his jaw is sore, as soon as she pads off to the bathroom to have a shower, Lewis hears the front door shut. Well, this will be interesting. He leaves himself bare, even though he's a bit cool, just to see what Hathaway's going to do. Indeed, Hathaway shows up a moment later, dark patches on his trackie bottoms, hair spiky with sweat. He takes in the scene, licks his lips.

"You've had a busy morning."

Lewis stares boldly right back at him. "You weren't here."

Hathaway nods slowly. "Wait for me, next time."

"Ladies' choice."

"Can't argue with a lady."

"Nope."

Again, Hathaway nods. He toes off his shoes, kicks them away from the door. "Don't eat all the croissants."

"As if," Lewis replies, watching Hathaway strip off his top, peel down his sweatpants. God, he's gorgeous like this. Attractive at any time, but gorgeous when he's slightly pissed off. Lewis knows it's wrong to feel this way, and yet.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Good idea," says Lewis, blinking. Should've expected that, really. Hathaway leaves the bathroom door open. Lewis wishes he hadn't already spent himself, then he could have had a lovely wank, listening to Hathaway and Dana fuck in the shower. He sees an entirely different sex life with Hathaway from here on out. They haven't really explored what each is capable of, their sexual relationship too new to be anything other than sweet and loving to this point. Now that he has a better idea of what Hathaway's willing to show Lewis...Lewis has a few ideas of his own. Things he had never asked of Val. Though she had asked them of him.

Her ideas had cut too close to work, and he hadn't been of the right mind, not once the kids and everything that had been involved with that had come. It was difficult to ask your spouse to do things - He couldn't do the things she asked of him, not when he'd seen the wrong end of it at the office. Vice hadn't even been the worst of it.

Hathaway would understand, he thinks. They could roleplay, and it would be safe between them. It would be okay, he was sure of it, in the same way this whole thing with Dana had been safe, once he had gotten over himself. It's a risk, he knows, but then, hasn't this been, as well? 

Lewis lies in bed, listens to Dana crying out again, hopes no one breaks their damned fool necks. When it gets quiet, Lewis rises, slips into his bathrobe and goes to see what he has for making breakfast. Despite all the shopping he's done in the past few days, he can't remember a thing he was planning on making. 

They break their fast with eggs and sausage, toast and coffee, sliced apples and yogurt and muesli.

Lewis showers, and they dress and go out for more walking and talking and visiting of museums.

It's all very...if Lewis were put on the point of it, he would say that they are in a magical bubble of their own, where nothing could disturb the intimacy between them. Oh, they all knew it was going to end, and that was good, it wasn't the kind of thing that could ultimately keep for long, at least not as the people they were at present. They all had their foibles and quirks and habits none wanted to share with others, and that was fine, too.

When it grows dark, they return home and make dinner. Lasagna, salad, garlic bread. Tiramisu that Hathaway insists upon making. He lets slip that his sister Minerva used to live in Italy and even though this isn't the best, because despite the fact that he's made the zabaglione and the pastry cream from scratch, it won't be right because it hasn't been chilled overnight. 

Lewis and Dana share a fond, amused glance behind Hathaway's back while he's stirring the zabaglione. Yeah, Lewis has always thought Hathaway would make someone a great partner, and if he's very lucky, that partner might be himself. _Is_ himself.

They eat their dinner at nine with glasses of rich red wine, and eat the tiramisu straight out of the dish with a few golden silver spoons, leftover from Val's years of dragging him to car boot sales when they had first been married. Building a life together, one piece of cutlery at a time. Years in, Val's mother died and she had inherited the box of silverware, which of course Lyn had taken back to Manchester, as was only right. 

Dinner completed, they lounge about in the kitchen awhile, well, Dana lounging at the table while Lewis and Hathaway do the dishes and kid each other like the fools they are. 

But Lewis, putting the dishes back in the display, sees Dana staring into her glass of wine, a sad version of a smile making its appearance on her face. He nudges Hathaway, who turns, and they both contemplate her while she either takes no notice of them, or completely ignores them, Lewis isn't sure. Either way, he doesn't like it. "Come on, hen," he says, letting his accent go ridiculously broad for a moment. "QI's on, let's see if we can beat Hathaway to the answers."

They retire to the living room, arrange themselves on the couch, Dana Hathaway Lewis, and when the wineglasses are empty Lewis gets up to get the rest of the open bottles. Might as well finish them off, he gets the feeling he's not going to want any wine for the next few days anyway. On his return to the living room with one of white and one of red, he stops, because Dana is halfway on James' lap, her arms around him, shoulders shaking. Hathaway looks at him, looks at the wine, shakes his head minutely. Right. This situation calls for water, not wine, so Lewis goes back to the kitchen and switches wine bottles for a carafe of water and three glasses. By the time he gets back, Dana has overcome her sobbing and reaches for the water with barely a glance at him. That's fine, too.

It's midnight when they go to bed. Lewis wonders if he should go to his bedroom, but again, Hathaway takes charge with a single look. Following them back into the bedroom - someone has miraculously thought to change the bedding - Lewis is ready to put his head down and get some rest. Seems like everyone else is, too. There's no suggestion that sex is in any way on the table, which is good; Lewis is pretty sexed out. They take up their places again, Lewis Hathaway Dana. 

"Everyone good?" asks Lewis, hand hovering by the lamp switch, looking at them both. Dana nods, Hathaway nods, Lewis nods, turns out the light. 

Yes, this is the life. Good food, good wine, good sex, good companionship. Tinged with melancholy and sorrow, but laughter, too.

They sleep.

~*~

The taxi pulled up shortly before nine. Incredible, considering the rain. Lewis had offered to bring Dana to the station, but she had refused. She looks refreshed, though, and ready to kick ass.

"It's easier, this way," She said, smiling both happy and sad.

"Aye, it is, pet. Come visit us at any time, you'll always be welcome."

"Thank you. Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," said Hathaway, rocking on his heels a little. He's got his hands behind his back, as if he's afraid he might reach out and touch her or something really weird like a hug. 

Oh, Lewis was glad to get Hathaway back to himself, and Dana's clearly ready to get back on Mulder's trail. He hoped her journey had been one of good respite. Memorable in many ways. He wept Dana into the hug Hathaway refused to allow himself. He pulled back a bit, looked her straight in the eye. "You take care of yourself, Dana Scully, Eff Bee Eye."

She snorted. "I will. I _will_ ," she repeated. "I promise."

"See that you do, or you'll have Hathaway and me to answer to."

The taxi driver was getting antsy, so Hathaway opened the door. Dana got in, but before she could close the door Hathaway folded himself impossibly, swooped in to kiss her cheek. "Have a good flight."

And the taxi drove away.

They stand and watch until it turned the corner. Lewis sighed, followed Hathaway back inside, back into the flat. 

Where as soon as he shut the door, he was promptly pushed up against it, Hathaway kissing him with wild abandon, one long leg between his thighs. 

"Robbie," mutters Hathaway. "Thank you. Thank you for everything, you're marvelous, you're wonderful."

"Ta very much," said Lewis, hoping he didn't sound too flippant. He holds Hathaway closer, peppering him with kisses while he speaks. " _You_ were wonderful. A kind, generous, loving man, who is the one of the best people to ever happen to me."

"And a brilliant Sergeant."

Lewis nodded. "And a brilliant Sergeant."

"Robbie," Hathaway breathed, looking at him with burning eyes. "I want, I want us to try again."

He instantly knew what Hathaway meant. "Yeah? You sure? We don't have to."

"I want to. I want to know what you're like - inside."

A surge of lust whipped through Lewis. He could already imagine it, James spread out beneath him, golden in the light, all sweaty, chest heaving with the pleasure Lewis gave him. Besides, he'd given the matter some thought in the hopes that one day Hathaway might want to have another go. There were…things…that might help. Things that were in the bottom box in the armoire. "All right then. I have something to show you."

~*~  
Fin  
~*~

**Author's Note:**

> I had some issues with tenses aka DON'T EVER HAVE THE GREAT IDEA TO USE A DIFFERENT TENSE 6K WORDS INTO A FIC, feel free to point out my errors so I can correct them. (no, I'm not telling you _now_ , that would ruin the uh, surprise. Or something.
> 
> Anyhoo, this is one of those ideas that you have to write to get it out of your head, y'know? I hope some of you like it... /feeble attempt at currying favor
> 
> Title by me, summary by Wendell Berry from his poem that I think is called "A Poem About Hope and Place", because I lost the original poem I snagged the title from. But, y'know, Wendell's still fits, in an environmental kind of way...


End file.
